Collar
by tastewithouttalent
Summary: "'I have something for you.' There's an odd quality to his voice, a shaky undertone that Mihashi can identify but not interpret, other than the reassurance of 'not angry.'" Abe gives Mihashi a present.


Mihashi hears Abe coming. Even with his shoes off the other's footsteps fall heavily enough that they're clear from nearly a room away, and as long as Mihashi isn't actually asleep he can always tell Abe is coming. He doesn't get up, and doesn't turn around, because he knows what will happen if he doesn't, and his skin is already tingling warm with the anticipation.

The footsteps draw in behind the couch he's perched on, there is a moment of silence; then a weight settles into the back of the couch, behind Mihashi's shoulders, and when Abe speaks his mouth is so close to Mihashi's ear that the other can feel the warmth of Abe's breath against his skin.

"Ren."

Mihashi shuts his eyes by way of acknowledgment, hums far back in his throat to indicate he's listening, that Abe has his attention, and after a moment he continues.

"I have something for you."

There's an odd quality to his voice, a shaky undertone that Mihashi can identify but not interpret, other than the reassurance of 'not angry.' Luckily that's enough that Mihashi doesn't hesitate to tip his head sideways so he can try to see Abe's expression. The other is smiling, his eyes are soft and dark, and Mihashi's starting to echo a smile of his own even before Abe produces a dark box and offers it over the back of the couch. It's only about as big as Mihashi's hand, a little smaller than Abe's, so it balances in his outstretched palm when Mihashi reaches out to touch the corners.

Abe still sounds odd when he says, "Open it," but his arm is perfectly steady, supports the box while Mihashi tugs the lid free to reveal a dark loop within. He can't tell what it is for a moment; he has to reach out, fish it up out of the box entirely before he properly takes in the soft weight of it, the texture of leather reminding him of a baseball glove, the shine of the clasp at the back of what is unmistakably a collar.

"_Oh_," he says, his voice gone faint and shocked at the first flutter of recognition, at all the infinite implications of what he has in his hands.

"I've been looking for the right one," Abe says against his hair, his voice going gruff and low. "Do you like it?"

Mihashi rubs his thumb against the leather, feels out the stitched pattern laid into it more obvious to touch than to sight. He can't quite find the words, doesn't trust himself to speak smoothly, so he just nods, sharp and fast so Abe won't miss the gesture.

There's a sigh that ruffles through his hair, relief clear in the breath though it doesn't show in Abe's tone when he keeps talking. "It took a while." He sets the box aside, tugs the lid free of Mihashi's lingering hold to drop forgotten to the couch. His arm comes up over the other's shoulder, his fingers touch the top edge of the collar like he's savoring the feel of it. "This one is perfect."

It's a statement, not a question. It doesn't need to be a question. Mihashi knows Abe is right, and Abe knows he's right; it saves Mihashi the trouble of saying the words himself, avoids the challenge of clearing the emotional tightness from his throat and forming a coherent response.

There's warmth against Mihashi's neck, Abe pressing his mouth gentle against the other's skin before he murmurs, "Do you want me to put it on?"

That is important, important enough that a nod won't suffice. Mihashi coughs, blinks hard in an attempt to keep his eyes from overflowing. He doesn't succeed, but when he speaks it's still clear enough to understand in spite of the tension in his throat and the damp across his cheeks. "Yes."

"Are you sure?" Abe almost never asks that, anymore. It's a hold-over from the early days, when it would sometimes take a few seconds for Mihashi to work up the courage to answer honestly instead of instinctively. Now Abe only ever asks that for important things, things he wants to be absolutely sure of. When Mihashi shuts his eyes there's another trickle of tears across his cheeks, but when he nods he's smiling without thinking about it.

"Yes," he says, and then, again, "Yes, Takaya, I want - want you to put it on me."

He can hear the pleasure in Abe's sigh this time, warm and promising even before the other reaches around Mihashi's other shoulder to take the collar from the redhead and draw the ends around his neck. It's unreasonably warm against Mihashi's skin, the leather even softer than it felt against his fingertips. He can feel the texture of it when Abe draws it snug, not so tight it restricts his breathing but close enough that he can feel the whole line of it pressing against his throat like Abe's touching him directly.

There's a tug at the clasp, Abe settling the collar into place so he can let it go and touch the very top of Mihashi's head, trail his fingers through the other's hair. "How does it feel?"

It feels like Abe's fingers steadying against his skin, it feels warm like the other's hands when Mihashi can't think straight for panic. It feels like possession and control and comfort all at once, like Mihashi can carry Abe with him even when they're not physically together. There's too much there for him to say, too many words requiring more coherency than he can manage. So he ducks his head, says, "G-good" even though that's not nearly enough, that's nothing like the near-painful heat rushing into his blood and shaking through his hands. But Abe laughs very softly against his cheek, brushes a kiss against the top edge of the collar against his neck, and the heat of his lips feels like understanding.


End file.
